


FF14 Fill Collection

by dazzler



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bloodplay, Collars, D/s, Dirty Talk, F/F, Kissing, Knifeplay, Knotting, Lapdance, M/M, Oral Sex, Pampering, Pegging, Rimming, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6326335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazzler/pseuds/dazzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various ff14 kink meme prompts I've filled!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haurchefant/WoL-pampering

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll... I have written so much Thancred porn.

“I am sorry it is due to such unhappy circumstances,” said Haurchefant. “I dreamt bringing you to my family's home would be an occasion of pure joy.”  
  
That sounded like they were getting betrothed.  
  
“At the very least, we are not lacking in creature comforts,” he said as Nezh’a crunched on the bone of the drumstick he’d been devouring. “I may take this chance to spoil you a little.”  
  
Nezh’a swallowed, looking out at the veritable sea of dishes that had been placed before him, tail swishing back and forth. “Haven’t you spoiled me already?”  
  
“I’ve barely begun. Oh, here,” he said, pulling one of the many plates closer. “Our cook makes the best apple tarts in Ishgard-- nay, Coerthas even. Try one.” Haurchefant held out a triangle-shaped pastry, and Nezh’a leaned over and chomped on it, pulling it from his outstretched hand.  
  
The flaky, buttery crust gave way to a slightly tart and cinnamony filling. “Oh,” Nezh’a breathed out, half a sigh. He took another bite.  
  
Haurchefant laughed. “You should see the look on your face, my friend.”  
  
When they had finished off the last of the pastries together, Nezh’a let out a yawn.  
  
“Will I be staying with you?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual so as not to sound overly eager.  
  
“Would you like to?” Haurchefant smiled when he nodded. “Wonderful!” He stood from the table. “If you could wait here, I’ll prepare the room and draw you a bath.”  
  
As Haurchefant departed, Nezh’a took a moment to observe his reflection in the clean silverware, attempting to smooth flyaway strands of black hair into place (an ultimately futile endeavor).  
  
He did not know how he could ever repay Haurchefant for his kindness. Not that it was guilt that put them in bed together; no, that was all Menphina’s providence.  
  
He was drawn out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Ready,” Haurchefant said, and Nezh’a’s stomach did a funny little swoop.  
  
A fire burned low in the bedroom across from a four-poster bed. Haurchefant led him to the attached bathroom and helped Nezh’a out of his clothes and into the bath, which was already full of hot water (it was a bit tall for him, not being of Elezen build).  
  
“Is the temperature alright?” Haurchefant asked. He dipped a cloth in the water and began to gently wipe the paint from Nezh’a’s face.  
  
“Yes,” said Nezh’a. “Perfect, actually.”  
  
“Good. Let me attend to you.” He started on Nezh’a’s hair, running fingers through it to straighten it out and massaging soap into his scalp.  
  
After getting out of the bath, Nezh’a was draped in a robe and ushered back into the bedroom.  
  
“Wait for me for a moment,” said Haurchefant, kissing his forehead. He went to the wardrobe and returned with a glass bottle. Nezh’a raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Would you lie on your back for me?” Haurchefant asked. Nezh’a got comfortable on the bed, hands at his sides. Haurchefant knelt beside him. He drew back the sides of the robe and uncorked the bottle, and the scent of roses flooded the room. “This is an oil to help relax your muscles.”  
  
He poured until it pooled on Nezh’a’s stomach, then began to rub it into his skin, making broad circular motions with his hands and massaging as he went. Nezh’a purred, a rumble deep in his throat.  
  
“It smells good, doesn’t it?”  
  
Haurchefant began to knead his foot, working his way from toe to heel.  
  
“Ah--” Nezh'a inhaled sharply as Haurchefant bent to press his lips to the top of it. “Is that-- is that truly necessary?”  
  
“I want to treasure every part of you.”  
  
Nezh’a’s cock stirred. “Haurchefant,” he said in a strained voice. He had a good month before his next heat, but now he felt a similar flare of desperation and want deep in his gut.  
  
“I can take care of that.” Haurchefant positioned them so that Nezh’a’s legs were hooked over his shoulders, while Haurchefant’s hands rested against the outsides of his thighs.  
  
“My love,” he said. He pressed his lips to the head of Nezh’a’s erection in a kiss and nuzzled it with his cheek. Nezh’a let out a soft whimper, heels digging into Haurchefant’s back.  
  
The room seemed to go out of focus when Haurchefant dipped his head to swirl his tongue about the tip. Nezh’a arched up into his mouth, tail curling in pleasure.  
  
“Ngh, Haurchefant, I--”  
  
Haurchefant dragged his tongue up the length before sealing his lips over it once more. Nezh’a lay back and closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation of the wet heat over his cock.  
  
“Close,” he hissed, hands finding Haurchefant’s hair. He gripped it tight and spilled into Haurchefant's waiting mouth.  
  
Afterwards, he stroked Nezh'a's ears, sending him into a state of blissful relaxation as he sprawled across Haurchefant’s lap.  
  
“Thank you,” he murmured sleepily.  
  
“Rest now,” Haurchefant told him. “I shall be here when you wake.”


	2. Thancred/WoL-Knifeplay

Thancred is laid out on the bed, which has been covered with an old sheet in preparation (they did not tell Tataru what they were taking it for, only that they would not be returning it).   
  
“Were I a god,” Sonam begins, and Thancred’s mouth goes dry at hearing his own words, “how would you serve me?”   
  
With all of Sonam’s height, his coal-black scales and orange eyes, Thancred does not find it hard to imagine.  
  
“I would--” he takes a second to find his voice, “I would do anything.”   
  
It claws at the back of his mind, that shameful, primal urge he always felt with his partners but rarely indulged in until he met Sonam. _Go to your knees._  
  
“Prove it to me,” Sonam says, his voice calm like a sea with no wind. Thancred manages a nod, their signal to go ahead.  
  
The dagger Sonam takes from the bedside table is plain, a small, single-edged knife, but the blade has been sharpened to a razor thinness.   
  
“Does it frighten you?” he asks, turning it over in his hands so the light dances off it.   
  
“That little steak knife?” Thancred snorts. “Hardly.”   
  
Sonam smiles down at him in a way that makes Thancred know he will be paying for that later. It sends a shiver through him.   
  
“Keep still,” Sonam says.   
  
The knife slips under the bottom of Thancred’s shirt and pulls up, his shirt following before it tears in half. He feels the point at his leg next, dragging up his pant leg. Sonam cuts his clothes off with a careful, almost clinical efficiency. He orders Thancred face down when the last scraps of cloth are cleared away.   
  
“Good.” He taps the flat of the blade against the curve of Thancred’s backside, a quick, sharp movement sure to leave behind a welt. Thancred starts, letting out an involuntary whimper.   
  
Sonam begins to trace aimless patterns over his back, keeping the pressure light but constant. It still cuts in some places, opening papercut-thin scratches dotted with tiny beads of red.   
  
Using the blunt end of the dagger, he pushes Thancred’s hair away from the nape of his neck and kisses it.  
  
“Make no sudden movements,” he says, and grabs Thancred by the hair so that he’s straining, arching back. The dull edge of the knife traces a line across the delicate skin of his throat and Thancred does not even dare to breathe.   
  
By the time Sonam drops him to the bed again he is sweating, shaking, and painfully hard. Sonam nudges at him to turn over again.   
  
The scratches on his back sting with the movement. Sonam glances at his newly exposed erection. “Enjoying ourselves, are we?”   
  
Thancred fights back a smile, because he isn’t the only one; Sonam’s voice is low and rough and his pupils blown wide with arousal.  
  
Without warning, he pushes Thancred’s knee down with a firm hand and drags the knife across his thigh. The cut is deeper than the others, leaking blood down the sides of his leg. Thancred cries out, and the dagger trails over the insides of his thighs before Sonam slides the cool flat of the blade over his aching cock, making him gasp and writhe.   
  
Then something strange happens. It starts with a tingling sensation in his hands as his thoughts drift away and the tension drains from his body, then becomes a warmth starting in his chest and spreading outward. Thancred’s eyelids feel heavy so he closes them, but he finds he cannot open them again. It doesn’t matter, though-- he feels safe.   
  
Some vague, distant part of him wonders if Sonam is a primal and in fact he has been tempered.  
  
When he returns, he is seated upright, and Sonam is dressing his wounds.   
  
“What,” Thancred rasps.   
  
“Here. Drink.” Sonam presses a glass to Thancred’s lips and Thancred, as usual, obeys him.   
  
“What was that?” he asks.   
  
“You became… unfocused,” Sonam says, peering at him. “It was as though you were in a daze.”   
  
“That has never happened before.” Thancred stares down at his hands.   
  
“I have heard of it. When one’s mind becomes overwhelmed during this sort of activity and goes into a trance.” His expression softens. “I was worried about you.”  
  
“I am fine,” says Thancred immediately.   
  
“It’s alright if you are not,” Sonam says. “Would you like to discuss it now, or later?”   
  
“Later.”   
  
“What would you like from me?”   
  
“Come closer.”   
  
Sonam curls an arm around Thancred’s waist and moves up close to him, careful not to disturb his leg. He begins laying kisses over his neck and shoulders. “You were so good,” he says. “So lovely.”   
  
The praise makes Thancred flush. Usually, that sort of talk would just embarrass him, but here, with Sonam, it doesn’t.   
  
He presses his lips to Thancred’s jaw. “Would it help if I made you come?”   
  
Thancred nods, feeling himself quicken once more as Sonam takes hold of him. His large hand moves at a languid pace, squeezing gently and pulling upwards. The wound on his thigh feels warm under the bandage, and it throbs in time with his cock. Eventually it is not enough and he arches up into Sonam’s grip, wordlessly pleading for more. He comes with a bitten-off cry.   
  
Sonam holds him through it and then throughout the night, and in all the Twelve, Thancred knows of no god as constant.


	3. Thancred/WoL-collaring

M’arin stared down at the gleaming strip of leather nestled in the box.   
  
“You bought me a collar.”   
  
“Do you like it?” Thancred asked.  
  
“...Because I’m Miqo’te.”  
  
“No,” he said, putting up his hands defensively. “I just, I thought it would spice things up a bit.”   
  
The two of them sat across from one another on Thancred’s bed in his quarters at the Rising Stones. They were already in a state of half-undress when Thancred suddenly leapt up and fished the box out from under the bed, much to M’arin’s confusion.  
  
“Your intentions aside, scholars still dispute on whether or not we’re related to the common cat. I for one see it as--” M’arin paused, picking the collar up and turning it over in his hands. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “Never mind. I might find some use for it yet.”   
  
With that, he fastened the collar around Thancred’s neck, pulling the metal ring attached to it around so that it rested at his throat.   
  
Thancred tugged at the leather band, gnawing at his lower lip. “I meant it for you to wear,” he said.   
  
“Oh, Thancred,” M’arin said, ruffling his hair. “You look much better in it than I would have.”   
  
“I do?” said Thancred, a flush spreading across his face. M’arin nodded and hooked his index finger in the ring, pulling him closer.  
  
“What a lovely gift.” He drew Thancred close and raked his sharp eyeteeth across Thancred’s shoulder, drawing a shudder from him.”You’re such a thoughtful boy.”   
  
“I am pleased you like it,” said Thancred. “Even if this was not its--ah, intended purpose.”   
  
For all he denied being related to one, M’arin’s smile was very much like a cat who’d caught lunch.


	4. Thancred/Aymeric-Twelve in Heaven

The Scions had broken out their best wine, and soon the party was in full swing. Fairy lights decorated the walls of the Rising Stones in every color.   
  
“Thank you for inviting me, Steel,” said Aymeric. “I am glad we finally have a chance to share a drink.”   
  
“Tis an honor to have you, Lord Commander!” she said with a deep laugh, giving him a friendly punch in the arm. “We deserve it, after…” she trailed off. “After everything.”  
  
“Indeed,” he said with a nod.   
  
At the bar, a group was beginning to gather around Hoary Boulder, who was infamous for his entertaining at these sorts of functions.   
  
“And the name of the game is twelve in heaven,” Hoary said. Half of the Scions present groaned, while the other half looked perplexed. “Two people are locked in the wardrobe together for twelve minutes and they must kiss,” he explained.   
  
F’lhaminn and Cid both decided at that moment to go to bed, claiming to be too old for such games.   
  
“No fair,” Tataru said. “Everyone knows Hoary won’t kiss anyone but Coultenet anyway.”   
  
“Everyone but Aenor,” Clemence muttered.   
  
“Any volunteers?” asked Hoary.  
  
“I will,” said Thancred. He raised an eyebrow at Alianne, who made a distinctly unimpressed face.   
  
“The other person shall be decided with this,” said Hoary. He produced something small and fidgety from his person. “The first one it runs to will be Thancred’s partner.”   
  
“...A wind-up dust bunny,” Steel observed.   
  
“My, Hoary, you have thought of everything,” Coultenet said, rolling his eyes.   
  
Hoary set the creature on the ground, where it spun in several circles before making a beeline for…   
  
“’Tis Aymeric.” V’mah Tia whistled as the dust bunny threw its small, sooty body at Aymeric’s boots.   
  
“Hoary,” said Alianne urgently. “You cannot lock Lord Aymeric in a wardrobe with Thancred. He is the leader of all of Ishgard.” .  
  
“I see no harm in it,” said Aymeric. Alianne’s mouth dropped open.   
  
Thancred turned to Steel for help, but she simply looked amused at the whole situation.   
  
So, without further ado, the two of them were ushered into the wardrobe together. It was empty, but still cramped for two fully grown men.   
  
“I’ll be keeping time!” said Aenor cheerfully, before everything went dark.   
  
“I imagine this was not what you expected when you were invited here,” said Thancred after a moment.   
  
“You’d be surprised,” said Aymeric. “As conservative as they are, Ishgardian nobles can host some rather wild parties.” Thancred felt a hand cup his jaw. "Steel told me about you," Aymeric said. "Handsome Thancred. You are different than I expected."   
  
"Am I?" Thancred let out a small, nervous laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. I have had a lot on my mind as of late."   
  
"Would you allow me to present a distraction, then?" Aymeric's velvet voice sent a shiver through him.   
  
"Couldn't hurt," Thancred managed, before Aymeric dragged him forward by his shirt and covered his mouth with his own.   
  
Aymeric was… soft. His lips, his hair, his hands. In the darkness of the wardrobe, Thancred could only concentrate on the sensations and the sounds, Aymeric’s body heat against his, his own breath catching in his throat. For his part, Thancred was trying not to be too loud, lest their tormentors overhear them from outside, but he could not suppress a low noise when Aymeric’s sharper Elezen teeth found a particularly sensitive area of skin on his neck.   
  
He smelled sweet (birch syrup, perhaps?), and Thancred found himself matching Aymeric’s enthusiasm, hands moving to his shoulders, then settling at his hips and tugging him closer.   
  
Aymeric drew back just enough so that his lips still brushed against Thancred’s when his mouth moved.  
  
“You are under no obligation to,” he said. “But if you wish to accompany me back to my lodgings after this, I--”  
  
He did not have time to finish before the wardrobe doors were flung open and both of them were momentarily blinded by the light.   
  
Thancred could only imagine the state they were in, hair mussed and lips bitten red. He grinned out at the stunned onlookers, then he leaned over to whisper his answer to Aymeric.


	5. Ysayle/Miqo!WoL-petting, oral sex

“Estinien and Alphinaud are asleep,” she whispered.  
  
“Finally,” said K’milla. She got up and followed Ysayle away from where the other two Elezen slept.  
  
The two of them took a seat on a giant toadstool obscured by a tangle of roots, beside one of the luminescent trees that seemed to grow in abundance and resemble the pom atop a moogle’s head.  
  
“You were in quite the state earlier,” K’milla commented after they had settled in.  
  
Ysayle watched as the wind carried several glowing spores away. “I have never beheld such soft and innocent creatures.”  
  
“Have to say I’m with Estinien on this one,” K’milla said. Her tail arched up behind her as she curled herself into Ysayle’s arms, nuzzling at her collarbone. “I’m not used to something that looks like dinner talking back to me, let alone ordering me about in that manner. They treated you as a princess, of course.”  
  
“K’milla,” said Ysayle, bringing her palm to rest on K’milla’s back, “are you jealous?”  
  
“No,” she said somewhat tersely. “But if you must know, my fur is much softer than theirs.”  
  
Ysayle hummed in acknowledgement. “I may have to check to be certain.” She held one of K’milla’s tawny ears between her fingers and circled her thumb over it.  
  
“Be my guest.” K’milla let out a pleased purr when Ysayle ran a hand over her tail.  
  
Ysayle continued to rub at her ears, then moved to scratch behind them. K’milla’s shoulders drooped as she relaxed, draping herself across Ysayle’s lap.  
  
When they had done this for the first time, K’milla had expected Lady Iceheart’s skin to be chilled to the touch, but that notion had been quickly dispelled, and now she pressed in close to the growing heat of Ysayle’s body.  
  
“Milla,” Ysayle said, “tell me about where you come from.”  
  
“‘S hot,” said K’milla, voice slurring. “Lots of sand.”  
  
“Are there moogles?”  
  
She made a face. “They’re not that common, no.”  
  
“There are a great many places I have yet to see outside of Dravania and Coerthas.”  
  
“Come visit me,” said K’milla. She took Ysayle’s hand in her own to lightly nibble at the skin of her inner wrist. “After the war.”  
  
Ysayle responded by bending to kiss her. K’milla’s mouth opened of its own accord and she shivered, reaching up to loop her arms around Ysayle’s shoulders. “Don’t think we should risk undressing,” K’milla said as they pulled apart.  
  
“Oh,” Ysayle gasped as K’milla rucked up her skirt.  
  
“Easy there,” said K’milla, flashing her a pointed grin. She slid off the toadstool and knelt on the ground, pulling Ysayle forward by her thighs, nipping at the smooth skin and running her rough tongue over the marks left behind.  
  
“Milla,” she sighed, fingers returning to work at K’milla’s ear.  
  
“Fuck,” K’milla breathed out, her own hand dipping beneath her waistband to touch herself. Behind her, her tail curled in obvious pleasure.  
  
She leaned in, tracing the outline of Ysayle through fabric with her tongue, then tugging aside Ysayle’s undergarments to taste her.  
  
Her quick, clever tongue set to work, lapping up her arousal and pushing inside, causing Ysayle to grip her hair and bite her lip to stifle her cries.  
  
She finished like that, shaking, chest heaving, and K'milla followed soon after, pitching forward and burying her face in the front of Ysayle's cloak.  
  
Sated, the two of them curled up beside one another, reluctant to return to camp just yet.  
  
“I must admit,” Ysayle said, “your fur is much softer.”  
  
“Good,” said K’milla, and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.


	6. Cid/Nero-armor sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm in cid/nero hell

His workshop in Revenant’s Toll was beginning to have a problem with uninvited guests.  
  
First, Cid found a family of Silvertear cobras hiding in the rafters. The next week, V’mah Tia and half the Scions decided to throw a party in it. And then one morning he entered the shop to find none other than Nero tol Scaeva dressed in full armor, standing over Cid’s work table and adjusting the circuitry on a magitek turret.  
  
Of course, he hadn’t recognized him until Nero shrieked “Garlond!” and dropped the wrench he was holding. Honestly, was he that surprised to see Cid in his own workshop?   
  
“Nero? What are you doing here?”   
  
Nero quickly regained his composure, leaning back on the table and putting a hand on his hip. “I’m just here to repair my things, and then I’ll go.”   
  
Cid squinted at him. He did seem to be looking worse for the wear, all dented up and scratched. It looked like something had blown off one of the spikes on his helmet.   
  
Nero bent to scoop up the wrench he’d dropped. “Cursed imperial bloodhounds caught me unawares outside of St. Coinach’s.”  
  
Cid tried to keep the amusement from showing on his face. “If you’re that tired of running from Garleans, I could probably find you a position here at the Ironworks."   
  
“Damn you, Garlond, I'll never work for you,” Nero snapped.   
  
“I suppose being chased does give you a sense of importance,” Cid said. “A shame. We could use an engineer of your caliber.”   
  
“And you’re not willing to chase me?”  
  
 _Careful, old friend, your armor is slipping._ He bit back the words. “I’m a busy man, Nero,” said Cid with a smile. “Besides, don’t you owe me a favor?”   
  
“I believe I have already paid you back,” Nero said, turning away.   
  
“How so?”  
  
“By not gathering my forces and launching an attack on your base in the past few months.”   
  
Cid stared at him, this outlandish man standing in his workshop in a suit of damaged armor, and his heart swelled with something like fondness. He stepped closer and pulled Nero into an awkward embrace.   
  
“Wh-what was that for?”   
  
“I am glad you decided not to single-handedly storm the Rising Stones,” he said against Nero’s pauldron. Nero grumbled something that sounded like “wouldn’t be single-handed.”  
  
“This... armor.” Cid frowned upon closer inspection. “Tell me, Nero, did you design this yourself?”   
  
He could not see Nero’s expression, but he thought he sensed a ripple of irritation go through him. “Yes. Yes, I did.”   
  
“I’m surprised your neck isn’t strained with the placement of the helmet’s internal mechanisms,” he said, curving a hand around the back of Nero’s head.  
  
“Well, it isn’t,” said Nero, and although his tone was petulant, his voice had taken on an oddly rough quality.  
  
Cid splayed his fingers over the breastplate. “Also, the shape of the ornamentation here is an issue. A few well-placed blows could easily shatter it.” He almost thought he felt Nero shiver beneath his hand, plates clinking together as he shifted.  
  
“It comes as no surprise to me, though,” said Cid. He touched Nero’s side, at the lower part of his ribcage where there was only cloth covering his skin. “You’ve long had a weakness for form over function.”   
  
This time, Nero’s hands came up to twist in the back of Cid’s shirt, and he let out a strange noise. “Seven hells, Garlond, what have you done to me?”   
  
“I--” Cid felt a sudden arousal coil hot in his gut. Swallowing, he looked up at Nero.   
  
“More,” Nero said, the sound muted, as though fighting through clenched teeth.   
  
“There should be protection here,” said Cid, palming Nero’s hardening cock through the fabric. “You’ve left your weak points exposed.”  
  
Cid waited for Nero to react, to push him away, but Nero just groaned. With the deft maneuvering of a mechanic, he undid Nero’s trousers with one hand and freed his erection, wrapping his other arm around Nero’s shoulders.   
  
“I could take you like this,” said Nero. “Against the wall.”   
  
“What’s stopping you?”   
  
Nero walked Cid back, until he was fenced in by Nero’s larger frame crowding him on one side and the wall on the other, the edges of the pauldron and cuisse digging into his skin. The armor was cold, and Cid shivered as Nero pulled his pants down. Leather gloved fingers pushed up his shirt to roam over Cid’s chest, squeezing at his pectorals and rubbing over his nipples.   
  
It was obscene the way Nero’s flushed cock was the only exposed part of him. To be fair, Cid probably appeared in a similar state of debauchery, pressed up against the wall with his trousers around his knees. He was certain no one was coming into the workshop until that afternoon, but the thought of someone stumbling in sent a jolt of excitement through him all the same.   
  
He had expected the gloves to come off for the next part, but was surprised when he felt their unfamiliar texture once more as Nero traced the cleft of his ass and circled his entrance.   
  
“Turn around,” said Nero. Cid obeyed, resting his forehead on the wall and pressing his palms flat against it to support his increasingly shaky legs. One of Nero’s gloved hands reached around his stomach and gripped his cock, while the other began to open him up, one finger at a time. He’d poured some sort of oil over them to smooth the preparation. The willingness to ruin his gear surprised Cid, but then, it was sort of a mess in the first place.   
  
“Think I’m ready,” said Cid.  
  
Nero slid into him, holding Cid by the hips and barely giving him time to adjust to the fullness before he began fucking him into the wall.  
  
“Nn, the spikes on the helmet are impractical,” Cid gasped, arching and reaching over his shoulders to grip them, urging Nero deeper.   
  
“You can be quiet now,” said Nero, slamming into him with a particularly vicious thrust, and Cid had no doubt he would be covered in bruises after they were done.  
  
Soon, he sensed Nero was approaching orgasm, as his movements had grown uncoordinated and his bitten-off noises were getting longer, louder.   
  
“Nero?”   
  
“What is it?” he asked through gritted teeth.  
  
“Finish inside,” said Cid.   
  
Nero faltered for a brief moment, then began fucking him again at a somewhat desperate pace. “Hate you,” he moaned. “Hate you, I hate you.” His fingers curled in Cid’s hair and yanked his head back as he came.   
  
Cid closed his eyes, the sensation of being filled bringing him over the edge as he spent in his own hand, breathless and shuddering.   
  
He looked down at the wall in dismay. Well, he’d just have to clean that off before this afternoon.   
  
“Come on, take the mask off, you must be overheating in there,” he said to Nero as he pulled his pants back up.   
  
Nero shook his head.   
  
Cid shrugged and craned up to plant a kiss right in the center of his helmet. Then he gestured toward where the magitek turret was still sitting on the work table. “You need any help with that?”


	7. Estinien/Aymeric-Pegging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was nervous about posting this one but!! it is one of my fave fills i've written. i feel like i shouldn't have to disclose that i'm trans in order to write fic about trans people tbh.

Aymeric was curled up in the chair reading when Estinien finally stirred. He was at his bedside in an instant.   
  
“Estinien,” he said, quiet in case he was wrong, in case what he’d seen had merely been a product of his tired mind.   
  
Estinien groaned a little and shifted. He opened his eyes and his unfocused gaze found Aymeric’s. “What?”   
  
Aymeric breathed a sigh of relief, his hand finding Estinien’s and squeezing it. “We thought you might not wake.”   
  
“Nidhogg, is he dead?” Estinien asked, and although his voice was low Aymeric could hear the rising panic in it.   
  
“Aye. U’vari has slain him.”   
  
Estinien’s hand went to the tendrils of scars across his shoulders. “How am I alive?”   
  
“We can credit the Scions for that.” Aymeric gave him a tired smile. “I will tell you all when you are better awake. Do you have need of anything?”   
  
“Yes, I do,” said Estinien, dragging himself upright to a seated position. “I know you far too well for you to deceive me. Stop pretending everything is fine and tell me what’s going on.”   
  
Aymeric swallowed, his hand making a fist in the sheets. “The people call for your execution.” As he expected, the look on Estinien’s face was not one of surprise, but grim determination.  
  
“Then I should face judgement,” he said.   
  
“I…” Aymeric’s voice wavered. “I cannot lose you again.”   
  
“You can, and you must.”   
  
“What happened is not your fault. You were not yourself.”  
  
Estinien shook his head. “I watched Nidhogg seek his revenge with my body because I was weak, Aymeric.”   
  
“You are not weak,” Aymeric said, “and this city owes you a hundred times over for its protection.”   
  
“I will turn myself over to them.”   
  
“No,” said Aymeric. “In three days time, you will leave Ishgard with U’vari under cover of darkness.”   
  
“And if I don’t?”   
  
“That is not a request. It is an order.” 

* * *

Aymeric had gone to visit Kan-E-Senna for a meeting regarding the Shroud’s shared border with Coerthas and the arrangement of joint training exercises. It went well, bar a minor incident with one of his escort asking an inappropriate question about the relationship of Padjals to dragons.   
  
Afterwards, he told his guards to take the day off and slipped away.   
  
It had been a full year since he’d last seen Estinien. He knew where he was, of course, and Alberic or U’vari occasionally visited with news of him. However, it would attract far too much attention for the leader of the city-state to go gallivanting off into the woods, and they needed to keep Estinien’s location a secret for his own safety. Many times he thought about stealing a short visit, but between running Ishgard’s daily affairs and dealing with the aftermath of the war, there simply wasn’t time.   
  
The house was in South Shroud, not far from Buscarron’s Druthers. In truth, Aymeric didn’t even know if Estinien would be there. When he knocked, however, he heard a familiar voice call, “Be right there!” and his heart turned in his chest.   
  
Estinien answered the door, his eyes widening at the sight of Aymeric standing on his front step.   
  
He was dressed not in armor but plainclothes, and his hair was much shorter. He’d chopped most of it off when he left, but now his bangs fell into his eyes a little and the ends were uneven-- evidently he hadn’t gotten it cut since.   
  
“What are you doing here?” Estinien hissed. He ushered Aymeric inside. “You could’ve been seen, you fool.”   
  
“I thought it worth the risk,” said Aymeric.   
  
The house was simple but cozy, consisting of several rooms filled with mostly wooden furniture. A wood-burning stove sat at the back of the main room. Aymeric smelled something sweet and fragrant and looked up to see bags of herbs hanging from the door frame.   
  
A kettle whistled on the stove and Estinien stalked over to it to pull it off. He waved his hand for Aymeric have a seat at the table, busying himself with pouring tea.   
  
“You could have at least given some warning,” he said. “I was not prepared for guests.”  
  
“I never took you for one concerned with proper decorum.”   
  
“Maybe I changed. Birch syrup, right?” Estinien said as he set a mug down in front of him and sat down heavily beside him.   
  
“Yes,” said Aymeric, smiling down into his tea. “You remembered.”   
  
Estinien let out a gusty sigh. “You’re making it very difficult for me to be angry with you.”   
  
“Stop trying, then.” Aymeric took a delicate sip of his drink.  
  
There came a tapping at the window. Estinien rose to open it and Aymeric was surprised to see a moogle flutter in.   
  
“I will look into it. Not right now though, I have company,” Estinien was saying to them. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said as the moogle drifted out again. He closed the window and latched it. “Sorry, they wanted to let me know about the movement of voidsent around the Deepcroft.   
  
“You have changed,” said Aymeric with a grin.  
  
“Kupolo is not so terrible,” he said grudgingly.  
  
“Have you seen Alberic of late?”  
  
“Aye, he drops by now and again to pester me into helping novice lancers or assisting the Wood Wailers in some hare-brained scheme.”   
  
“I’m pleased that you two have reconciled.”   
  
“I do not deserve his forgiveness,” Estinien said, mouth twisting in a bitter smile. “Or anyone's, and least of all yours. I swore to serve you and I nearly...” His voice died as Aymeric’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking gently over his jaw.   
  
“I’ve missed you,” Aymeric said.   
  
Estinien closed his eyes and laid his hand over Aymeric’s, tilting his head into the touch. “I wish you would forget about me.”   
  
“You ask the impossible.”   
  
They sat together for a moment in silence before Estinien reached over and pulled Aymeric into a kiss, going no further than brushing their lips together.   
  
“I’ve been wanting to do that since you arrived,” he admitted.   
  
Aymeric carded his fingers through Estinien’s hair. “More than that, hopefully.”

* * *

Soon the two of them were stumbling into the other room, tugging at one another’s clothes in the space between kisses.   
  
Aymeric pulled off Estinien’s shirt and was met with scarring over his arms and torso, what had been an angry red on the night that Nidhogg was drawn from his body and now had faded to white. He trailed his fingertips over them lightly, feeling his throat growing tight.   
  
The agitation must have shown in his eyes, for as Estinien caught the direction of his gaze he took hold of Aymeric by the wrist. “They no longer pain me,” he said. He pushed his thigh between Aymeric’s legs, looking down in confusion when he felt the bulge in his braccae. “Did you…?”  
  
Hesitantly, Aymeric removed them to reveal the brown leather harness that sat low on his hips, straps holding a phallus made of a polished material in place. He unbuckled where they held it close to his body.   
  
Estinien stared at it. “You wore it here?”   
  
“I did not mean to presume, nor did I come here only to bed you,” said Aymeric. “But I thought--”   
  
An almost feral noise tore from Estinien’s throat as he pinned Aymeric to the bed, kissing him hard. Aymeric laughed against his mouth.   
  
“Seems someone is as eager as I was.”  
  
“You have no idea.”  
  
With Estinien laid out on the bed for him, face buried in a pillow, Aymeric took in the expanse of his strong back, the slices and burns across it from years of battle. His new haircut exposed the nape of his neck and Aymeric pressed his lips to it almost reverently.   
  
The trust that Estinien had in him never failed to leave him adrift, lightheaded.   
  
As he eased the tip of a finger into him, he kissed a path down the ridge of Estinien’s spine. Estinien shifted against the covers, hips coming up to take Aymeric deeper. “Mark me, that I may have something to remember you by.”   
  
Aymeric was nothing if not obliging. He began to bite a collar of bruises into Estinien’s throat. At the sharp pain of Aymeric’s teeth in the skin between his shoulder and neck, Estinien made a soft, needy sound into the pillow that caused Aymeric to ache between his legs. He twisted his fingers and Estinien shuddered, tightening around them.   
  
“Enough,” he said in a strained voice. “Just fuck me already.”  
  
Aymeric positioned the head at Estinien’s entrance and pushed in slowly, his other hand curling around the jut of Estinien’s hipbone to stop itself from trembling. It slid in smooth up to about half of its length.  
  
“How is it?” he asked, breathless.   
  
Shifting his knees wider to accommodate him, Estinien pressed his forehead to the bed and let out a low groan. “It’s-- It’s been a while.”   
  
Aymeric pulled further out, dragging over the spot he knew would help Estinien adjust to the stretch and eliciting a helpless noise from him.  
  
“Oh fuck, _Aymeric_ \--”  
  
He ground up into him, filling him, the base pushing against his clit and digging into his body. Aymeric could feel his own arousal drip down the inside of his leg at the sight of Estinien spread out before him, flushed and wanting. Pressing Estinien flat to the bed, Aymeric rolled his hips, barely drawing back before thrusting in again. Estinien choked on a moan.   
  
Their bodies fit together perfectly, Aymeric thought, as though they remembered one another.   
  
He slid a hand around Estinien’s stomach then reached lower to grip his straining cock, which leaked fluid across Aymeric’s palm as he stroked the hot flesh.  
  
“I miss this,” Aymeric said against his ear, and the words tumbled from his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “I miss you. Every day that you are gone, I wish you by my side--”   
  
Estinien came sudden and hard, his cock jerking, Aymeric’s name on his lips.   
  
“Turn over, I want to look at you,” Aymeric said after a moment, drawing himself up.  
  
Estinien did as he was told, chest heaving, body flushed from the neck down. The places where Aymeric had marked him had not yet begun to bruise, and his lips were swollen and red. The tenderness in his gaze momentarily robbed Aymeric of breath.   
  
“Satisfied?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Aymeric swallowed.  
  
“Not quite yet.”   
  
“Allow me to help.”   
  
Estinien fumbled with the buckles on the harness for a few moments before managing to pull it off. Gently, he lowered Aymeric onto his back and pushed his thighs apart, stroking the slickness between Aymeric’s legs and then dipping his tongue into the center, tasting him.  
  
“Gods,” Aymeric breathed out, overwhelmed at the sensation of Estinien’s mouth on him. “Estinien, oh Gods--”   
  
Estinien mouthed at his swollen clit and grazed his teeth over it lightly. Aymeric arched up off the bed with a cry.   
  
“You’re so wet,” Estinien murmured, slipping a finger inside. Aymeric’s hands tightened in his hair. A second finger joined the first, and when he crooked them upwards Aymeric saw stars.   
  
His body shaking and clenching around Estinien’s fingers, he came. Estinien drew Aymeric close and wrapped his arms around him as he rode out his orgasm. For a moment, all the world seemed to vanish but for the two of them tangled up in Estinien’s warm bed.   
  
“Would that I could bring you home with me,” Aymeric said when he finally found his voice again.   
  
“Some day, perhaps.” Estinien tucked his forehead into the curve of Aymeric’s neck.   
  
“I’ll be back as soon as I am able.”  
  
“I know,” he sighed. “You should-- You don’t deserve this.”  
  
“True,” said Aymeric. He brought a hand up to rest on Estinien’s cheek. “I do not deserve you. But I shall endeavor to try.”   
  
Estinien gave him an exasperated look, but Aymeric just smiled before capturing his mouth in a kiss.


	8. Hilda/Lucia- light bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ship these two with a vengeance tbh

“Never thought I’d like getting trussed up by a Temple Knight.” Hilda wriggled in the restraints, feet kicking out at nothing. It earned her a light slap on the thigh.   
  
“I’m pleased you’re enjoying yourself,” said Lucia, sitting up and casting a shadow over her. She was a good deal taller than Hilda and could probably carry her. She did have wicked strong arms. Hilda mentally shelved the idea for later.   
  
Lucia turned her attention to Hilda’s chest, rubbing at her nipples and kneading them between her fingers. Hilda’s legs fell wider of their own accord.  
  
“Oh, fucking hell, Lucia,” she groaned, head hitting the wall behind her. “Stop teasing me and get on with it.”   
  
“Not with that mouth,” said Lucia. Her expression was almost as stern as usual but for a faint flush across her cheeks as she dragged her hands up Hilda’s thighs. Hilda let out an irritated, if slightly breathless huff.   
  
“ _Please_ fuck me?”  
  
Lucia laughed, and the unfamiliar sound of it caused an absurd fluttering in Hilda’s chest. Shiva’s bells, she had it bad. Sure, when she’d first met Lucia she was pricklier than a coeurl in a briar patch, but she wasn’t so bad when you got to know her. Or blow her, to be perfectly blunt.  
  
Finally, _finally_ Lucia stopped touching everywhere else and curled a hand around Hilda’s arousal, pulling with agonizing slowness over the length of her. Lucia’s fingers were calloused from years of sword use, and Hilda loved the rough feel of them. She stuttered a moan, hips lifting as her back arched into the touch.   
  
“I’m already ready, you don’t have to-- I’m gonna come--”   
  
Lucia’s breath hitched when she sank inside at last, and her grip on Hilda’s ankle tightened. It sent a jolt of heat through Hilda to see the usually controlled knight affected by her.  
  
“Move, Lucia,” she hissed, hands curling and uncurling in their restraints. Lucia complied, slamming into her hard, and Hilda's head fell back with a moan, her legs wrapped around Lucia's waist.   
  
She held on until Lucia brushed the sweet spot inside of her, and then it was too much, and she spilled between their bodies with a soft gasp. Lucia followed close behind, fingers pressing bruises into Hilda’s hips as she came inside.   
  
Hilda smiled up at her, chest heaving, hair tangled and sticking to the side of her face, and Lucia looked back like she was the most Fury damned beautiful thing in the world.


	9. Aymeric/Estinien- vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A man must gaze not upon the eyes of a vampire.  
> A man must hearken not the words of a vampire.  
> A man must lay his hands not upon the flesh nor blood of a vampire.  
> The archbishop, his Holiness, declares thus, and thus it is law."  
> -Chapter I of the Enchiridion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't on the meme but it was kinda inspired by a prompt so i'm posting it here anyway. because.

 

When he stumbled into the abandoned church, Aymeric had probably not expected to find a vampire, much less the man who had gone missing from his bed some two months prior. 

“Estinien?” he asked. 

“My Lord,” said Estinien. He had been roused from a wakeful slumber by the noises of his former companion clattering among the pews and had descended from his makeshift quarters to investigate. Aymeric was flushed with exertion-- the blood in his cheeks bloomed close to the surface. Estinien felt an uncomfortable pang in his stomach. “What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” He took a step forward. “I thought you were dead.” 

_I am,_ Estinien didn’t say. “Leave me. Return to your men.” 

Aymeric ignored him and continued to come closer. He peered at Estinien, taking in his gaunt features and the red of his eyes. “I was told there was a vampire living here in secret.” 

“I was turned. But I refuse to feed and become like them.” 

“You’ll starve!” 

Estinien was silent. 

“Feed from me,” Aymeric said, tilting his head to expose the long line of his throat. Estinien swallowed. Aymeric’s neck gave off a fragrant smell, and Estinien could almost hear the blood pounding beneath his skin.

"'Tis a sin." His mouth felt dry. “What if I take too much, and I hurt you?”

“I trust you,” said Aymeric, his voice steady, full of conviction. Unable to resist any further, Estinien moved closer, wrapping an arm around Aymeric's waist and tugging him forward. 

Though he winced as Estinien sank his teeth into him, he quickly relaxed into Estinien’s hold, body slumping against him. He made small sounds of encouragement and cradled Estinien’s head in his hand as he nursed at the wound.

Estinien made a noise that was almost a moan. The rich, thick liquid filled his mouth and dribbled down his chin, and warmth spread through him as it slid down his throat. 

When he was finished, he lapped at the punctures on Aymeric’s neck to clean them and pulled away, though not without some difficulty. Aymeric’s breathing had grown harsh, his mouth open and panting by Estinien’s ear.

“It feels,” he said, “it felt, ah--”

“I know,” Estinien said, his hand trailing down Aymeric’s chest. “You taste so good.”  He pressed a gentle kiss to the bite marks. 

“Take all that you need. I mourned you once.” Aymeric’s fingers tightened their grip on Estinien’s cloak. “I do not intend to again.” 


	10. Haurchefant/Dragon- religious guilt, dragon dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow happy 10 chapters. have some dragon fucking.

When Haurchefant awoke, he had a pounding headache, and he was staring straight into the jaws of a large dragon.   
  
He scrambled to his feet and immediately swayed. When he reached out to find support, he ended up leaning on what appeared to be a cave wall. He snatched up a sharp rock and held it out as threateningly as he could manage.   
  
The dragon inclined its head. “Thou suffered quite a fall. It would be unwise to move too hastily.”   
  
Around four yalms high at least and twice as long, it looked at him with eyes that shone a fiery orange in the darkness and spoke in a low rumble that Haurchefant could practically feel vibrate in his chest.   
  
What in the seven hells was happening? He remembered falling off his chocobo, and then--  
  
“I found thee and brought thee here to wait out the storm.”  
  
Haurchefant was struck speechless by the notion. It was absurd. Unheard of.   
  
“You meant to slay me with a rock,” the dragon observed.  
  
“Your… your kin have killed many of mine,” Haurchefant managed at last.  
  
“I am a son of Hraevelgr’s brood. We have not left Sohm Al in hundreds of years.”   
  
“Then why are you here?”   
  
“I did not intend to be,” Vritra said, a note of disdain in his voice. “The storm hath grounded me.”   
  
Outside, the winds howled and all of Halone’s fury poured down from the heavens in the form of relentless snow. Haurchefant took a moment to gather himself. Neither of them would be leaving the cave any time soon, and he was not making a good impression. “Pray forgive my rudeness. I am Haurchefant of House Fortemps.”   
  
The dragon dipped his head in an approximation of a bow. “I am called Vritra.”  
  
Fury above, he’d just introduced himself to a dragon. Though they were at war with the Horde, not their cousins, Haurchefant doubted that would hold up in an inquisitorial court if anyone found out.  
  
“Coerthas changed much since I left it.” Vritra looked out at the blizzard beyond the mouth of the cave.   
  
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments watching the snow pile ever higher. Haurchefant began to shake, his teeth clicking together in the quiet of the cave. He wrapped his arms about his chest.  
  
“Thou art cold,” said Vritra. Haurchefant nodded. “Come, take shelter beneath my wings, close to me.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Haurchefant. He crept closer, tucking himself beside the dragon and curling up. One of Vritra’s wings spread out and folded over him, creating a strange, leathery sort of roof.  
  
Almost immediately, Haurchefant’s body began to warm. He put a hand out to touch one of Vritra’s legs. The scales were smooth, and powerful muscles rippled just below the surface. Vritra snorted, a gust of wind that ruffled Haurchefant’s hair.   
  
“I apologize,” he said, drawing back, “but I’ve never touched a dragon like this before.” He’d never been this close to a living one, actually, but thought that might be in bad taste to mention.  
  
“Pray continue.” Vritra settled in and stretched out on his side. “I do not find it unpleasant.”  
  
So Haurchefant leaned over and began to stroke his stomach, feeling the rise and fall of Vritra’s body as he breathed. The sensation was oddly similar to running a hand over silk. He moved on to the spines along Vritra’s back, tracing the tapered edges with his fingers, careful not to rub them in the wrong direction. Vritra rumbled in pleasure as Haurchefant stroked his horns, not unlike a large cat purring.   
  
“Oh… your...” Haurchefant couldn’t help but stare. The dragon’s ridged cock had emerged from between his back legs, heavy and slick with some sort of fluid. He glanced up to find Vritra looking back at him intently. “Sorry, I did not mean to--”  
  
“Is it so strange to thee?” The dragon’s breath was hot on Haurchefant’s neck. “But I forget, amongst thy kin, thou speakest not of such matters openly.”  
  
“What matters?” Haurchefant asked.   
  
“Mating.” The word echoed in Haurchefant’s head and sent a shiver down his spine.   
  
“I am unlike most Ishgardians in that regard,” said Haurchefant. He wasn’t trying to sound coy, but he also wondered whether the dragon understood his kinds flirtation in the first place. Oh Fury, this would be so much less complicated if Vritra had just tried to eat him.

“Have you lain with a man before?” Haurchefant asked.   
  
“Centuries ago. I can recall a time when coupling between Elezen and Dravanian was not unusual.”  
  
“So the stories of Saint Shiva...”   
  
“Dost thou desire me to take thee?” Vritra bared his teeth. They glinted in the dim light of the cavern. “If thou art frightened, tell me, little one.”  
  
“I…” Haurchefant swallowed thickly. “I do… I want this. That’s what frightens me,” he said.  
  
Up close, Vritra’s cock was longer than Haurchefant’s forearm and larger in diameter than his fist. The idea of fitting it inside him seemed improbable at best and dangerous at worst.   
  
He was about to engage in the most heretical act possible in the eyes of the Holy See. Halone and Thordan above, what was he doing?  
  
His hand came to rest upon Vritra’s neck, and Vritra turned his head to nuzzle his chest. Somehow the intimacy of the gesture surprised him. Perhaps he had not thought dragons capable of such affection.  
  
“What would most put thee most at ease?” Vritra asked. Haurchefant slipped his cloak off and knelt on it.  
  
“On my hands and knees, I should think.”   
  
Shame burned his cheeks as he presented himself to the dragon, head bent and legs spread. Vritra hooked a talon over the waist of his braccae and helped ease him out of his clothes.  
  
How was he to face his knights, knowing that he had allowed a dragon to defile him, to use his body like this, and that he had responded in kind, rutting and panting like a coeurl in heat?   
  
And this--this was not a sin he could bring to confessional, not if he wanted to keep his life.  
  
Then Vritra’s warm tongue was sliding across his back and between his legs and over the backs of his thighs. The motion was soothing, somehow, and Haurchefant felt the guilt like a knot in his stomach melt into something else.   
  
A blunt talon nudged Haurchefant’s thighs further apart and the tip of Vritra’s pointed tongue pushed inside, opening him up as it went. He curled it to reach deep within Haurchefant and make his knees shake, fists clenching in the folds of his cloak.  
  
“I think-- ah, I am ready,” said Haurchefant at last. Vritra withdrew and moved so he was above Haurchefant, legs forming a cage around him.  
  
Vritra growled as he entered. It was almost unbearably tight. Haurchefant took several deep breaths and willed himself to relax, wrapping a hand around his own cock to distract himself. Vritra did not move, content to crouch above him and allow his body to adjust to the stretch.   
  
“ _Fury._ ” Haurchefant choked, the dragon’s cock sinking yet further inside him. He was almost certain that if he laid a palm on his stomach he would feel a bulge there.   
  
Then Vritra began to move.   
  
The fullness overwhelmed him, sent shivers through his entire body each time the ridges of Vritra’s cock dragged over a particularly sensitive spot, helpless noises spilling from his lips with every thrust. In the onslaught of sensation he barely registered his climax, a shudder that tore through him as he spent between his fingers.   
  
Vritra came thick and hot inside him, filling him enough that his seed dripped down Hauchefant’s leg.  
  
He collapsed on the cloak, exhausted and sore. Vritra dipped his head and began to gently clean him off with his tongue, and Haurchefant closed his eyes.   
  
“That was amazing,” he said between gasping breaths.  
  
“Rest now, little one,” said Vritra, his voice a low rumble. “The storm will be over soon.”


	11. Thancred/WoL- blowjob

“Come in,” said Audric. He sheathed the dagger he’d been polishing and set it back on the desk. The door opened, and Thancred stepped inside, looking uncomfortable. 

“First of all, I wish to express my gratitude,” he said. He moved no further, continuing to hover by the door. “For taking care of me the other night when I was… incapacitated.” 

“A trifle,” said Audric. “I only returned you to your room, and you slept like a babe.”

“Still.” Thancred took a step forward. “Audric,” he said, “I do remember everything that happened.” 

“Please, think nothing of it,” said Audric. He turned back to his desk. “You weren’t thinking clearly.”

“Be that as it may,” said Thancred, “I did not intend--”

“To kiss me?” Audric said. “I know.” Audric stood. Although average height for a duskwight, he still had about a fulm on Thancred. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be with me.”

Thancred licked his lips. “Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to continue. Where we left off.”

Thancred tilted his head up to kiss him, and Audric met him halfway. He knew Thancred to be experienced, but found his motions as shy and hesitant as though it were his first time. 

“Nervous?” he said against Thancred’s mouth, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

“I’ve no liquid courage this time,” Thancred replied. Audric felt rather than saw his smile as they kissed again. “Hold on. I want to do something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Here…” Thancred sank to his knees. “Like this.” He covered Audric’s darker hands with his own and curled them so that he held fistfuls of Thancred’s hair. 

Audric nearly tripped over him in surprise. “You want me to…?” 

“Please,” said Thancred, cheeks flushing. 

“Well.” Audric ran the pad of his thumb over Thancred’s lower lip. “That is a pretty mouth you’ve got,” he said. Thancred responded by closing his lips over Audric’s thumb and sucking it. Audric smiled down at him. 

Thancred unlaced Audric’s trousers and freed his cock, which was already half hard. He wrapped a hand around the base.

“Ah,” said Audric, gently pushing his arm away, “just your mouth.” 

Thancred obediently moved his hands behind his back and crossed them at the wrist. 

Audric gave a tentative thrust, his cock sliding over Thancred’s tongue, slipping into his cheek. Thancred swallowed around it, guiding it to the back of his throat with his tongue, and Audric let out a groan, his grip on Thancred’s hair growing tighter. 

Thancred eased forward until his nose pressed to the curls of black hair above Audric’s cock. Audric watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he struggled for breath, then began to fuck into the tight, wet heat of his mouth. Thancred’s eyelids fluttered closed, his jaw relaxing and the color high in his cheeks.

“Oh-- Good boy,” said Audric, rocking into him, and Thancred made a stifled noise around his cock that might have been a moan. He shifted a little, giving Audric a view of his erection straining against his trousers. “That’s-- gods, who taught you how to do this,” Audric hissed through his teeth. 

If it was possible to look smug with a mouthful of cock, Thancred was managing it. He pulled back and dragged his tongue over the head, a string of drool catching on his chin. 

Audric petted his hair as Thancred took him all the way in again, murmuring praise and letting Thancred set the pace this time. 

When he spilled down Thancred’s throat and across his lips, he felt Thancred’s body shudder around him as he came untouched. 

There was a long moment where each of them caught their breath, the room filling with the sounds of their panting.

“Is there a reason why you don’t want this, with me?” Audric asked. Thancred leaned forward so his forehead rested on Audric’s leg, one hand curling around his calf. 

“You’re a hero,” he said, his voice rough and almost too quiet to hear, “and I’m… You don’t know anything about me, about my past--”

“And do you think that if I find out, I’ll leave you?” 

Thancred flinched. Audric reached down to stroke his hair.

“Thancred,” he said gently, “Do you think me so cruel? I grew up in Gridania. I did things I’m not proud of to survive. And I do know you, Thancred Bladesong,” he continued. “You’re one of the most loyal and caring men I’ve ever met.” 

He bent down and pressed a kiss to Thancred’s forehead.

“And I’ll remind you as many times as you need me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so if ya'll are interested, i'm gonna be doing the summer 2016 eorzean art/fic exchange!! it's gonna be a ton of fun. sign-ups just opened and you can check out more info here: http://eorzeaexchange.tumblr.com/


	12. Jannequinard/WoL- knotting, sexy astrologian magic

Althought he found the Fortemps manor to be extravagant, it looked positively austere in comparison to the Durendaire house. Grand tapestries depicting the history of the house, chandeliers in every room, beautiful oaken furniture… Khojin was astonished at the splendor of it all, having never seen such riches in his life.

Jannequinard had escorted him to his room, warning him with a finger pressed to his lips not to be too loud.

“I daresay my father would not be thrilled to learn of your presence here,” he whispered. Khojin nodded. Most Ishgardians were wary around Au Ra, Janne being a notable exception.

Jannequinard’s room was a bit of a disarray, but still no less beautiful than the rest of the manor. What looked to be enchanted mobiles of stars and planets hung from the ceiling and glittered as they slowly spun. Khojin took a seat beside him on the four poster bed, which was piled high with pillows and blankets.

“So. Where were we?” Jannequinard asked.

Khojin took his hand and rubbed a thumb over his inner wrist. Jannequinard relaxed into the touch with a little sigh. “You were telling me how you wanted to bed me from the moment you laid eyes on me.”

“Yes… and here you are, in my bed.” Jannequinard gave him a crooked smile. “It must be fate.”

Khojin resisted the urge to groan. How Janne had so many high-born admirers remained a mystery to him. Although, perhaps he just didn’t understand anything about nobles, coming from a hunting clan as he did.

Jannequinard stripped off his shirt and lay back against the pillows, then slipped out of his trousers, the twist of his hips from side to side a clear invitation. He looked up at Khojin from beneath hooded eyes, so Khojin leaned over him and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, all heat and sharp teeth. Jannequinard threaded a hand through his hair. “What Lady Leveva taught us earlier…”

“Synastry?”

“Yes, that,” said Jannequinard. “Do you think we could try it? Now, I mean.”

Khojin blinked. “What are you thinking this is going to do, exactly?”

“Please.”

“If you say so,” said Khojin. He pressed his hands to Jannequinard’s chest, and aether flowed and mingled a deep blue in the air between them. Khojin felt the energy burn hot in his chest. Jannequinard let out a little gasp.

“I feel...you,” said Khojin.

“Probably my unique aetheric signature,” Jannequinard said. He ground his hips up against Khojin’s, letting him feel the press of his erection through his smallclothes. Each sensation seemed to be doubled, like he was experiencing Jannequinard's pleasure as well as his own. “That’s why it is familiar to you, but in this form it’s much more--ah, intense.”

Jannequinard’s usually well-combed hair was in a disarray, and his lips, swollen and wet from Khojin’s attentions, parted as he tried to catch his breath.

Khojin swept in to press kisses over the expanse of his smooth, dark skin. He took one of Jannequinard’s nipples in his mouth and suckled at it, letting his teeth scrape the sensitive flesh.

"Was always curious about those,” Khojin murmured against his chest. Jannequinard’s laughter broke off into a moan and his hands came up to grip Khojin’s horns. Khojin moved lower, nipping at Jannequinard’s skin as he went.

“I take it that wasn’t the only thing you were curious about?” said Jannequinard, raising an eyebrow.

“Hardly.”

Khojin pulled aside his smallclothes and slid his pointed tongue up Jannequinard’s cock. “Merciful heavens--Khojin!” Jannequinard’s hips jerked as Khojin tugged at the soft skin covering the tip. “Watch your teeth!”

Khojin licked his lips and took Jannequinard to the root, then pulled back and swirled his tongue over the head, the taste of salt bursting in his mouth.

“Mm.” Jannequinard panted, open-mouthed, fisting a hand in Khojin’s hair. “I’m close, oh Fury, my father will kill you if he hears us. He’ll kill me! Both of us!”

“I’ll make sure your mouth is occupied, then.” Khojin hauled them both up so that Jannequinard sat with his legs splayed over Khojin’s thigh and kissed him hard, sharp teeth sinking into Jannequinard’s lower lip.

Before long Khojin had three fingers in him and his other hand wrapped around his cock. Jannequinard tipped his head back, baring his throat with a low moan as he writhed in Khojin’s lap.

“Have to be prepared,” Khojin said, sucking a kiss to his neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jannequinard arched into him and moved his hips in a slow circle, grinding his erection against Khojin’s. “I know you think me a delicate nobleman’s son,” he said. He dragged his fingers down Khojin’s back, fingernails clicking against the scales. “But I’ll have you know I rather enjoy a rougher touch. In fact, when I was at the Sharlayan academy--”

“I don’t doubt it,” Khojin interrupted, “but I was unsure if you’d had an Au Ra before me.”

“No, I haven’t, but I’ve an idea… Khojin, please, I want you inside.”

“Slow and easy.” He took hold of his ridged cock from where it lay wet against his belly and pressed the head to Jannequinard’s entrance. “Here, lie down. I’ll teach you this time.”

“ _Fury_ ,” Jannequinard gasped as it slipped in. His eyes had gone wide and dark.

Khojin fucked him into the bed while murmuring his name over and over, peppering his chest and neck with kisses.

“Right there, yes, please, harder, ohwhatintheFury’snameisthat--” Jannequinard trailed off into a moan.

Khojin buried his face in Jannequinard’s shoulder, and the base of his cock began to swell, joining their bodies together. Khojin continued to rock against Jannequinard in tight motions, while long legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Janne, nn, relax for me, love...”

Despite all his earlier babbling, Jannequinard was silent when he came over Khojin’s fist with a shudder before going limp beneath him.

Turning so they both laid on their sides, Khojin stroked his hair and nuzzled at his shoulder, making sure Jannequinard was as comfortable as he could be considering their awkward position. Another pulse, and his come spilled hot into Jannequinnard, filling him, the bulge of his knot sealing it inside.

Khojin used his hands to bring Jannequinard to climax once more before slipping free, both of them now exhausted and covered in sweat.

“How did I do?” Jannequinard asked in a voice slurred by oncoming sleep.

“You are,” said Khojin, kissing him, “a most gifted pupil.”


	13. A$$CRED - Thancred/WoL

The chocobo-drawn carriage rattled down the road at dusk, the sun disappearing in the west and a full moon on the rise. A single lantern swinging from the carriage’s seat-irons cast a dim yellow light over its occupants.

“Why do the scions have this, again?” Sonam asked, gesturing toward Thancred’s outfit.

“I cashed in a few favors,” Thancred replied, leaning into him.

Ever the man of mystery. Sonam ran his hand over the Thavnairian silk draped across Thancred’s shoulders. The bustier wrapped around the top half of his chest and dipped to show his hip bones, and two long pieces of silk hung from his waist, shifting to flash a pale thigh when he moved.

Around his neck was a jeweled collar attached to a slim gilt chain. Thancred took the other end and wrapped it several times around Sonam’s palm. “There. Now remember, I am your concubine, not your equal.”

“I cannot treat you like this,” said Sonam.

“Like any other game we’ve played, it is merely pretend,” said Thancred. “And I--” Color rose in his cheeks. “I can’t say I am not looking forward to spending the evening by your side, mission or no.”

Tonight, Sonam was to play the part of Prince Tumet, a Xaela chieftain’s son looking to invest in the Ul’dahn economy. His horns had been painted gold and draped with jewelry for the occasion, and strands of beads kept hitting him in the face when he turned his head too suddenly.

The role was a far cry from his true background (that of a a poor mercenary struggling to survive on his own).

“Your job is to draw attention away from me,” Thancred had explained to him. “I will seek out Fafazano’s Garlean collaborators while you speak with the other guests, and together we shall stop them when they try to make the exchange.”

Finally, the carriage rolled to a stop outside the home of ceruleum magnate Babazano Fafazano. The Fafazano mansion rose out of the Thanalan desert like a palace of gold, with colorful flowers and jewel-encrusted murals decorating the garden. A valet came to collect the chocobos, and Sonam immediately knew he was out of his depth.

Thancred stepped from the carriage and bent down to adjust his leg straps, and Sonam swallowed, watching the broad curves of his hips move.

Perhaps this would be even more difficult than he anticipated.

The two of them ascended the marble steps up to the front door and tried their best not to appear too affected. After showing the invitation at the door, they made their way to the dining hall, Sonam leading Thancred along by the collar.

He could smell perfume water on Thancred, something flowery and sweet to go with his disguise. The silk he wore about his waist was almost transparent.

A very convincing part of Sonam wanted to crumple the piece of silk in his fist, pull the underwear aside and bend him over the nearest table. A more rational part told him that perhaps that would be in bad taste.

The hall was already full of well-dressed guests seated at long tables decorated with ice sculptures and plates piled high with fruit. Each seat had been marked with a name card. Thancred took his place at Sonam’s side, kneeling like some kind of dog.

Several bards sat on the opposite side of the hall near what had to be a dance floor. Sonam only hoped he wouldn't be called upon to participate.

A lalafell who Sonam vaguely recalled as being a part of the Syndicate leaned over, already tipsy.

“Look who’s here,” he slurred. “The auri prince! Baba told me you’d be coming.”

“Good evening,” said Sonam.

“Taller in person, aren’t you,” the lalafell said. His eyes flitted to Thancred for a brief moment before he resumed speaking to Sonam.

“I imagine your journey was awfully long.”

“Not at all. We have been staying in Ul’dah with the intent of doing business for some time now.”

As the Scions had predicted, the other guests didn’t even acknowledge Thancred’s presence, speaking only to Sonam out of respect for his ‘property.’ It went without saying that most of them had no idea about various Xaela customs, which made the farce ever more believable.

“Lovely of Baba to host this party. Of course, I’ve known him for over a decade now, and as business associates…”

Sonam was silent as the lalafell prattled on. By the time the main course arrived, he was both ravenous and irritable. He imagined Thancred was hungry as well, but no food had been brought for him, not so much as a plate or a cup of water.

Frowning, Sonam tore a scrap of dodo off the bone and slipped a hand beneath the table where Thancred knelt. He took the meat from Sonam’s fingertips and then licked up the grease it left behind, tongue dipping in between his fingers.

Sonam imagined his mouth elsewhere and resisted the urge to excuse them both from the table. Thankfully, his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of none other than the host himself.

“What an honor! Prince Tumet, I presume?” Babazano spread his arms in welcome.

“Your letters did not do your estate justice," said Sonam. "Truly splendid.”

“I’d kneel, but I fear you might trod on me,” Babazano said.

“And who is this?” he asked, still speaking to Sonam.

“My… guest, for the evening.” Sonam laid a proprietary hand on Thancred's head.

“A dancer? Of Thavnair stock, no less,” Babazano said, raising an eyebrow. “Would he give us a show?”

“I’m not certain that’s--” he began, but Thancred pressed a finger to his lips and _giggled._

“I don’t mind,” he said with a wink. When the bards ended their current song, he stood.

A hush fell over the guests as Thancred strode onto the ballroom floor.

Then the music started up again, and Thancred twisted and spun, the silk wrapping around his body. His legs, toned from years of training as a rogue, carried him effortlessly across the floor. By the time he dipped low to kneel on the ground, the entire room had fallen silent, watching. Sonam was struck by the sudden fear that they could all hear his heart beating loud and unsteady in his ribcage.

Thancred crawled toward him and then pulled himself up and into Sonam’s lap so that he straddled him, his breathing heavy in Sonam’s ear. Sonam smelled jasmine in his hair.

He began with a slow circle of his hips, palms pressed to Sonam’s chest. At first, Sonam merely rested his hands at Thancred’s waist, but then they began to drift downward until Sonam’s claws dug into his ass, kneading gently as Thancred rolled his body against him. He shifted closer and spread his legs wider, his feet barely brushing the ground when Sonam’s hips rose to meet him. Sonam’s dick gave a more-than-interested twitch.

With his head tilted back, Thancred tugged his gloves off one finger at a time using his teeth. Tossing them aside, he whipped the silk from his shoulders and wrapped it around Sonam’s neck, pulling them closer together.

“Aren’t you overdoing it a bit?” Sonam said through his teeth.

“You love it,” Thancred whispered back, then pushed away from him and resumed twirling across the floor. 

He finished his dance with a graceful bow, and the assembled guests applauded.

* * *

 By the time dinner was over, Sonam was wound tighter than a three-gil chronometer. His claws dug into the meat of his palms the whole way to their chambers.

Babazano had provided palatial rooms for guests who traveled from afar: plush carpeting covered the floor and a massive bed stood in the center of the room, piled high with pillows.

Thancred went to move to the bed, but as soon as the door slammed behind them, Sonam tugged at the chain, dragging Thancred back into a rough kiss. He tasted like wine and spices and went all limp and pliant against him, eyes half-lidded as Sonam sucked his tongue.

He walked Thancred back into the bed and followed him down, looming over him.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight? Putting on that little show out there?” Sonam asked in a rough voice. A wicked grin curved over Thancred’s lips as he hooked a leg around Sonam’s waist.

“Didn’t you? Never told you I was a street dancer in Limsa, did I.” He put his palm to Sonam’s cheek, and his smile softened. “Don’t fret. They all knew I belonged to you.”

“I never knew you were so shameless,” Sonam said. “Were you planning to have me for dinner?”

“I thought about it,” Thancred confessed, lifting his hips to push his growing erection against Sonam’s, and the words fell from his lips in a rush, “thought about sucking you off under the table, thought about, ah, drinking your come--”

Sonam moved to kiss him, and the beads draped from his horns swung down and clacked on the scales of his face.

“These swiving...things…”

A growl tore from his throat as he ripped the beads from his neck, scattering them across the floor. Thancred’s laughter was muffled by Sonam flipping him over and shoving him face-down into the pillows. Sonam pulled the silk out of the way and brought his hand down on bare skin, and Thancred let out a startled noise, breath hitching.

He drew up to admire Thancred splayed out for him on the bed, sides heaving and head bowed. Sonam kneaded at the red mark his hand had made-- _(his skin was so firm and smooth)_ \-- then spread Thancred's cheeks with his thumbs and lowered his head. Sonam’s tongue flicked out over his entrance and Thancred squirmed, fists clenching in the sheets. He pressed the flat of his tongue down and dragged it upwards, Thancred’s hips following the movement with a shuddery jerk.

He held Thancred’s thighs apart and pushed in deeper, began working him open, and Thancred honest-to-Twelve _mewled_ , back arching to bring Sonam’s face closer.

“Ah! Right there, Sonam, please--”

Sonam slipped a hand between Thancred’s legs and cradled his balls, fucking him on his tongue and making him near sob with pleasure. The sound tugged at Sonam’s cock, untouched and throbbing, and he quickened his pace, mindlessly rutting against the bed as he did so.

Just that wouldn’t be enough to prepare Thancred for him, so he slicked his fingers with spit and pushed one inside, then another, all the while keeping up the movement of his tongue.

The preparation was fast and rough. At one point Thancred clenched around him, voice reduced to hoarse moans, and Sonam thought he might come, but he held on even as his legs shook and his cock dripped pre-come onto the sheets.

“Lovely boy,” Sonam pulled back to say, and, “you’ve earned a reward.” Thancred whimpered.

He hooked an arm around Thancred’s chest and hauled him up. His frame was still small in Sonam’s arms, fragile in a way Au Ra of his like were not. He could circle one arm with his fingers, support him on his thigh.

“It will be tight,” he said as he held Thancred to him, stroking his hair and laying kisses across his collarbone. Thancred squirmed in his lap, seeking friction, release.

He slid his cock between Thancred’s cheeks, his length flushed with blood and dark against his skin. He thrust several times without penetrating, enjoying the sensation of Thancred’s taut curves around his cock.

“Please,” Thancred groaned.

He eased Thancred onto his back as he pushed in. Thancred shifted, adjusting to the girth, and Sonam breathed out a hiss.

“Gods, Thancred.”

After he was pressed in up to the hilt, he held still, Thancred’s hand alighting on his thigh as Sonam curled his fingers around his cock and stroked him. Thancred strained forward, chin tilted up, and Sonam obliged him with a kiss.

“Ready?” he asked. His lips brushed Thancred’s jaw.

Thancred smiled, face flushed and eyes dark with want. “I can wait no longer.”

Sonam began to move, anchoring himself with his hands on Thancred’s waist. With one motion, he tore what little remained of the silk garment from his hips, claws catching in it and reducing the fabric to tatters.

“Ah!”

The ridges of Sonam’s cock dragged over the sensitive place just inside him. Sonam sped up, heat coiling low in his stomach, and Thancred cried out, his head falling back against the pillows.

Just then a familiar sound pulsed in his ear, and he froze mid-thrust. Seven hells.

_“Sonam?”_

“Papalymo?”

_“Where are you? Yda said the targets are on the move.”_

“Already? But the information we had said-- ah--” Beneath him, Thancred whimpered, legs tightening around his waist.

_“Is Thancred there?”_

“He’s indisposed,” Sonam said through gritted teeth.

_“Do hurry, I’m afraid I will be unable to stop Yda should she decide to fight them all at once.”_

“She could probably handle it,” he said.

_“...Sonam.”_

“We’ll be on our way as soon as we can.”

He switched the linkpearl off, then flipped Thancred over onto all fours, resuming with fucking him hard and deep into the mattress. The silk from his ruined costume pooled beneath his waist.

“Sonam-- fuck, _fuck_ \--” Even with his hands clenched in the sheets, each thrust sent him pitching forward, his cock bouncing against his stomach. “Nngh, I can’t--”

Sonam spilled into him with a choked moan, gripping him by the waist, and he’d barely pressed a palm to Thancred’s cock when he followed soon afterward, shuddering and coming between his fingers.

They collapsed against one another in a panting, sticky heap.

“How do you fare?” Sonam mumbled into his shoulder.

“I’m not certain I can walk,” Thancred said, slinging an arm around him. He turned his head to press a kiss to Sonam’s neck.

Sonam stood, hooking a hand under his legs and lifting him off the bed. “Come on then, let’s go help save Eorzea before Yda takes all the glory.”

“Sonam?”

“Hm?”

“...We might want to find some new clothes first.”


	14. Haurchefant/Stephanivien fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for the small fill but i really wanted this to have 14 chapters in total!

It had been yet another miserable training session that left Stephanivien aching and exhausted, sprawled out on the practice field several fulms from the practice lance that had been knocked from his grip. 

 

Haurchefant took him by the hand and hauled him to his feet, catching by the shoulder when he staggered. “Are you alright, my friend?” 

 

“I will be.” 

 

“You would surely have bested me had you been allowed your favored weapon,” he said. “Pray do not take it to heart. You are as much a warrior as I.”

 

“Perhaps. But I’m not Chlodebaimt.”

 

“Your father cannot fault you for that.”

 

“He thinks you to be a good influence on me.” 

 

“Then Lord Haillenarte is wrong on two counts. First of all, I am a terrible influence.” Stephanivien gave him a faint smile. “Secondly, he fails see the man I do.” Haurchefant took his fist in hand, gently uncurled his fingers and kissed his palm. “The inventive and hard-working one. The one who would do anything to protect his brothers.” 

 

Stephanivien wanted to reply  _ (“Fury knows you’ve saved Francel on more than one occasion”) _ , but the words caught in his throat. They made quite a pair-- Haurchefant, the perfect knight and son but for being a bastard, and Stephanivian the trueborn, who could not be a greater disappointment if he tried. 

 

“These hands are capable of so much more than holding a spear.” Haurchefant pressed his lips to the pads of Stephanivien’s fingers. “I could show you,” he continued, voice soft, “my regard for you. Give these clever hands the measure of my devotion.” 

 

That coaxed a smile from Stephanivien. “I’m not certain how much more exercise my poor body can handle.”

 

“I’ll be gentle,” said Haurchefant. “Perhaps you’d like a massage?” 

 

“Sounds lovely,” Stephanivien said with a sigh. Haurchefant squeezed his shoulder. 

 

“Pray accompany me back to the manor, and I’ll draw up a warm bath for you.”


End file.
